Yi-hyeon didn’t particularly like him either. It was because, after seeing Yi-hyeon’s outdated phone model, he’d once taken a jab at him, saying something like, “Orphanages get plenty of subsidies, don’t they? Why don’t you ask the director to buy you one?” Not only that—strangely enough, he had no fat anywhere else, yet somehow his baby fat never went away. On days when they had classes together, he’d unfailingly pinch or fiddle with Yi-hyeon’s cheeks, saying things like that.
As that unpleasant past came to mind, Han Jun smacked his pretty, refreshingly shaped lips open once again.
Looks like this is about to get fun.
He smiled and pressed his body even closer.
There’s space behind him too—so why is he sticking to me like he’s trying to crush me?
It was hot.
Even though there was nowhere left to retreat because of the temporary partition blocking him, Han Jun kept pressing in closer. Through the skin where they touched, Yi-hyeon could clearly feel Han Jun’s body heat.
Back when he was Louis, physical contact like this had felt natural—but now that he was human, it was unbearably awkward.
Just like when he’d needed an adjustment period as Louis, Yi-hyeon figured that enduring skinship with friends as a human would also require an adjustment period. So he lightly rolled his lower lip inward and bit down, deciding to grit his way through the awkwardness.
He hunched his body but never made a sound or pushed Han Jun away. He just kept repeating to himself—adjustment period, adjustment period—over and over like a mantra.
Yi-hyeon already ran hot to begin with, and now that he was pressed up against someone else’s body, he slowly started to feel like he was boiling. And strangely enough, his heart also seemed to be beating a bit faster.
Worried that Han Jun might hear his heart pounding wildly, Yi-hyeon shrank in on himself even more and forcibly slowed his breathing.
All of a sudden, Han Jun glanced down at Yi-hyeon. Then he gently lowered his head and lightly brushed the tip of his nose against Yi-hyeon’s hair.
Wh-why… what’s he doing……?
Yi-hyeon had washed his hair that morning and scrubbed himself clean, but since it was already past fifth period, he couldn’t help worrying. He tucked his neck in like a turtle and twisted his body slightly.
In doing so, his pelvis lightly bumped into Han Jun’s thigh, which had been overlapping with his. An all-too-familiar silhouette from the bathtub flashed through Yi-hyeon’s mind, and his face prickled as if it might burst at any second—he had no idea what to do.
The image of those firm thigh muscles, taut even without flexing, surfaced in his mind. If he’d brushed against the thigh, it wouldn’t have felt this soft—and the thought that maybe what he’d touched wasn’t actually a thigh at all made Yi-hyeon feel like his cheeks were about to explode and kill him right then and there.
Just as that thought struck, a rough, middle-aged man’s voice rang out from the stall next to them, saving him.
“AH!”
Yi-hyeon’s shoulders jolted violently at the sudden shriek. It was unmistakably the science teacher’s voice. Immediately after, there was a sound like he was holding his breath, groaning, “Ugh—.”
“Which bastard did this?!”
The bathroom door slammed open with a deafening BANG!, loud enough to feel like it might break, and overlapping with that were the rapid thud-thud-thud of two people sprinting down the hallway.
As the frantic footsteps faded farther away from the restroom, Han Jun let out a snort of laughter.
Beside Han Jun, who looked thoroughly satisfied, Yi-hyeon was on the verge of tearing up, his nose burning from the stench of rotten eggs.
It was a smell so foul it made him want to throw up.
“Uegh.”
When Yi-hyeon dry-heaved, Han Jun stopped laughing and patted his back.
“You okay? Damn, that smell’s no joke. If he’d gotten hit, he might’ve gone home early. Gotta avoid science class today.”
“B-but how did you know Wonseok was coming for revenge?”
Yi-hyeon asked, pinching his nose shut with his fingers.
“He kept sneaking looks. When some dipshit with the same junk dangling keeps glaring at you like that, the reason’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”
He said he’d just fed it back to him instead, but apparently the guy was even dumber than expected, since he fell for such a simple bait. Han Jun laughed cheerfully once more—then promptly gagged like Yi-hyeon had.
The guy had clearly planned everything.
Saying his stomach couldn’t take it, Han Jun pulled a small, square object from his pocket. When he peeled off the silver wrapper, a reddish caramel popped its head out.
Han Jun pushed the peach-scented candy straight into Yi-hyeon’s mouth.
His thumb pressed gently against Yi-hyeon’s plump lips before pulling away.
“Your stomach feels nasty too, right? It’s my favorite caramel. Oh—by the way, those flyers? You put them up really neatly. Nice job.”
“Ah… yeah.”
“And… thanks for following me because you were worried.”
Murmuring like he was talking to himself about how he couldn’t even remember the last time someone had worried about him, Han Jun stepped out of the restroom. After he left, Yi-hyeon bit down on the sweet, chewy caramel with his molars and muttered,
“I was worried back then too… when you got hurt…”
“What did you say?”
Startled when Han Jun suddenly poked his head back through the bathroom door, Yi-hyeon inhaled wrong, and the caramel got stuck in his throat with a sharp hitch.
“Kgh—khk—cough, cough. Ah, nothing, nothing at all. Just… talking to myself.”
The flattened caramel finally slid down his esophagus. Han Jun stared at Yi-hyeon for a moment before speaking again.
“By the way, what shampoo do you use? That’s what I wanted to ask.”
“Me? Just… whatever the orphanage has. Why?”
“Tell me what brand it is later.”
“Okay. But it’s from some bankrupt company that sells stuff dirt-cheap at the market, so the product changes every time. Not sure you’ll even be able to find it.”
“Still.”
When Yi-hyeon nodded, Han Jun’s face disappeared again with a quick motion. Left standing there blankly, Yi-hyeon rolled his eyes upward and ran his fingers through his own soft hair.
Did he like the scent?
Yi-hyeon thought the product Han Jun used smelled way better. So, secretly hoping he wouldn’t change it, he let out a low sigh before hurrying back to the classroom at the sound of the bell.
***
That day, Wonseok was dragged off by the science teacher and only released from the guidance office after writing ten pages of reflection. He protested bitterly, insisting he wasn’t the culprit, but lies didn’t work on the science teacher, who had clearly seen the back of his head.
***
The moment he returned to the classroom, Wonseok lashed out and kicked his desk.
“Ah, fuck. Is he a goddamn ghost? What, did he suddenly ascend and shit?”
He’d clearly seen them go into the bathroom, so how the hell had they suddenly disappeared and confused him like that? He squawked on and on, then seemed to realize something and shot Yi-hyeon a cold glare before immediately spitting out a curse.
“Ha. Fucking bullshit.”
With a face full of irritation, Wonseok strode straight over to Yi-hyeon’s side and kicked his chair with all his strength. Yi-hyeon nearly toppled out of it, wobbling, but he pretended not to know anything. He looked up at Wonseok with an expression that said he genuinely didn’t understand why this was happening.
“Why… what did I do this time……?”
“‘This time’? You saying ‘this time’ in front of me right now?”
“…What.”
“What do you think, asshole? You’re the one who hid Han Jun.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He played dumb, but Wonseok’s terrifying expression—like he’d already figured it out—made Yi-hyeon shrink back endlessly.
“I’m asking if you hid him, you cocky little shit.”
“You saw it too. Me going into an empty stall. And who the hell goes in together when someone’s taking a shit—”
“Fuck, how the hell would I know if you were shitting or jerking off in there? You keep getting on my nerves. Try covering for Han Jun again and get caught—I swear.”
He snarled that he’d left him alone out of pity, and Yi-hyeon had repaid that kindness like a total piece of shit. Saying that the day Yi-hyeon got caught protecting Han Jun would be his memorial day, Wonseok glared at him with killing intent before returning to his seat. A moment later, Han Jun walked into the classroom, his gaze briefly brushing past Yi-hyeon, who was hunched over with his shoulders drawn in, before moving on.
***
Han Jun’s face, which Yi-hyeon had thought was adjusting well to everyday life, grew more and more gaunt with each passing day. He was losing weight—but since Yi-hyeon saw him every day, he hadn’t noticed. Realizing it belatedly, Yi-hyeon found himself fixated on how endlessly dark Han Jun’s expression had become.
It wasn’t just his weight and expression that had changed. The guy who used to spend all of school life sleeping with his head down now often stared at his phone or gazed blankly out the window.
I’m sorry, Han Jun……!
Yi-hyeon believed that Han Jun’s gloom stemmed from him.
